


An IMP-ish Hunt

by High_Spanxicutioner



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series), Supernatural
Genre: (I hope), Alcohol, Comedy, Immediate Murder Professionals, Minor Violence, This is an extended shitpost; read if you want an extended shitpost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/High_Spanxicutioner/pseuds/High_Spanxicutioner
Summary: "Hey, Cass," they said."Go take care of this hunt," they said."It'll be easy!", they said.Castiel has a run in with the Immediate Murder Professionals. Nobody involved enjoys it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	An IMP-ish Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> My half of a fun little trade! I simply could not resist.

"You shouldn't be here."  
It hadn't been a terrible entrance, he'd thought. Suitably dramatic, enough confidence and certainty behind his words to project the authority needed as an Angel. It doesn't always work, but it *usually* results in a little bit of hesitation, or a flash of fear.  
Not... the three bizarre looking creatures he'd interrupted staring blankly back at him. Honestly, it's a little awkward.

"Annnndddd just who are YOU supposed to be, exactly?" The tallest one speaks, straightening up and turning to face him fully. Good- at least some part of this is going as intended.

"My name is Castiel. I'm here to stop you." He pauses, and clears his throat, adding on a quick; "...Whatever you are."  
Once again, the reaction isn't quite as expected; instead of fleeing, or gearing up for a fight, the tallest creature just straightens up further, a grin on his face as he reaches into a jacket pocket. Whatever it is he's fetching, his companions seem to already know, one facepalming as the other turns an irritable, disbelieving glance towards the tallest one.  
"Oh! Well, if you're sorely lacking in knowing who we are, allow me!" He brings his hand out of his jacket with a flourish, holding out...

"...A business card?" Castiel peers at the offered item, squinting from it to the creature while one of his companions gives a loud groan of frustration.

"He's here to STOP us, he doesn't want any of the business cards!"  
Before Castiel can attempt to give his own opinion on the matter, the taller creature turns, glaring daggers at his companion.  
"WELL, _Moxxie,_ these business cards were annoyingly fucking expensive and I'm still holding onto way too many of them, so I'd REALLY appreciate it if you'd be a good boy and shut your fucking cock-holster so you don't jeopardise this mission any more than you already have, okay??"

"Uh." Castiel attempts to clear his throat and get their attention again, to little avail; it seems as though a full on brawl is about to break out between the snarling imps, with the one revealed to be named Moxxie puffing up in response to the scolding.

"While I appreciate that, _Sir,_ nobody actually AGREED to getting those business cards, and might I ALSO mention that we're supposed to be doing a job and the asshole we're supposed to murder ISN'T EVEN HERE!"

"Excuse me." Castiel takes a step forward, though his words seem to once again fall on deaf ears.

"Well, whose fault is that! No, seriously, I don't actually know which of you fuckwits to blame this on, and if EITHER of you say Loona you're finding your OWN way back to Hell. Also, hang on, let me just--"  
A gunshot pierces the already tenuous silence of the field they're standing in, sudden enough to take even Castiel by surprise- he'd almost started looking around for the source before the dull ping of his vessel's body being injured reaches him. He glances down, eyeing the sudden hole in his shirt, before squinting back up at the gaggle of creatures. The tallest one stands tall, grinning, one arm extended with a flintlock pistol (Castiel reflects a moment on how that might be the most bizarre aspect of this situation...) smoking in his grip.  
Seeing that it did little more than ruin Castiel's outfit, however, his smile dips, the gun turned on it's side so he can make a little circular motion with the barrel, emphasising his point.  
"Aren't you supposed to be, you know, reacting? Gurgling, sputtering, writhing on the ground in agony, rattling out your last blood-drooling last breaths-- you know, DYING?"

"From... a gunshot?" Castiel asks, getting an emphatic nod in return. "No. I am an Angel of the Lord, your guns aren't going to have an effect on me."

The effect of this revelation is as immediate as Castiel had expected it to be, but before he can build up any hope that things are finally going to get back on track, it quickly proves to be the wrong kind of reaction; beyond a faintly scared look from Moxxie, the overall response is for the tallest creature to start laughing, almost doubled over from the force of his mirth.

"Uh-"

"No no, wait, gimme a minute." The creature makes a grand show of wiping his eyes with one finger, straightening back up and fixing Castiel with a bemused stare. "Why, exactly, should we believe YOU are an angel? Christ on a stick, you only have two eyes! There's not much need to 'be not afraid' when some porno parody accountant is the one staring you down!"

"I assure you, I'm--" Castiel's interrupted by the sound of raspberries being blown in time with his attempts at speaking. "That's- listen- _Stop that._ "

"This is so immature." Moxxie grumbles, turning to the otherwise-silent third for support- only to find her fiddling with something over by a tree. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but he doesn't have the luxury of wondering what she's doing when there's a whole incident to be resolved first.  
Something must be done to break the childish stalemate, and Castiel has a good idea for what that might look like. Letting the taller imp continue blowing raspberries at him, the angel straightens up, manifesting his wings with an audible crack of what sounds like lightning and the deepening of the shadows around him, and letting his eyes start to glow just for good measure.   
That should prove it- but just to be sure, he speaks, staring down the suddenly-silent imp.

"I assure you, I'm a real angel. This is just a vessel."

The silence that follows only has enough time to stretch for a few moments, only offering Moxxie a few moments to start hyperventilating and his companion only a few moments to look worried, before a more feminine voice breaks the tension.

"Hey, dipshit!"

All three dipshits in attendance turn to face the voice, but only one reacts meaningfully; spotting the sigil immediately, and recognising its purpose- not that it gives him any time to react before Millie's bloodied hand slaps the tree she'd scrawled the banishing symbol onto, and he's wiped away from that area in a flash of brilliant white light.  
As the light fades, Millie trots over to Moxxie, kneeling down to help coax him back through his panic attack while Blitzo dusts himself down.

"Well, thank god for that. Hey, how the fuck did you know how to do that, anyway?" Blitzo asks, already pulling out his phone and dialling. "Hey, Loona, bring us back. Yes, already. No, we didn't..."

Millie shrugs. "I read."

\--

Some number of miles away, Sam Winchester sits at a table, researching odd news stories. By this point in his life, he doesn't really react much when he notices Castiel flicker into place next to him, only looking up from his laptop as the angel passes him to offer a nod and a greeting.

"Hey, Cass. How did the hunt- uh, Cass?"

Ignoring his friend's greeting, Castiel walks past him, moving to the counter. Picking up a bottle of whiskey, Castiel opens it, and lifts the neck to his lips, starting to chug.

  
"Whoa, Cass! Slow it down, buddy, what the hell's going on?"

Not stopping until he's drained the bottle dry, Castiel finally relents, pointing at Sam with the hand holding the now-empty bottle.  
"That hunt is your problem now. I'm not going back there."  
Sam's eyebrows raise, and he nods slowly, holding up both hands in mock surrender.

"You got it, man, I'll grab Dean later. Any word on what we're dealing with, at least?"  
Castiel pauses in place, reaching into his pocket to withdraw the faintly crumpled business card he'd been offered just a few moments prior. Striding over to Sam with purpose, the angel slaps the thing down onto the tabletop, earning another bemused sort of look from Sam. As if by explanation, or just to read out the acronym in plural, Castiel offers exactly one word before he vanishes again.

"Imps."


End file.
